Unbroken 'Apocalypse'
by Eternal Ending
Summary: For reasons undisclosed to the boys, demons have taken an interest in Dean. Meanwhile, Sam is plagued by crippling attacks. As the end approaches, things are set into motion which can't be undone... Before 3.04 aired. possiblely discontinued
1. E1: Shadows Gather, P1: Cryptic Warnings

**Full series summary: **

**It has been months since Dean was brought back from Hell to greet a world on the brink of the war to end all wars. The forces of both Heaven and Hell prepare for one, final stand off to determine the fate of the world. The Seals are being broken and have only just reached the halfway mark.**

**For reasons undisclosed to the brothers, demons have suddenly taken an interest in Dean. Not long goes by that one doesn't try and capture him. What happens when Sam and Dean's roles are reversed and it is Dean who needs protecting?**

**Meanwhile, Sam is plagued by crippling attacks which seem to rub off a little more of himself with every second. He is soon on the edge of loosing himself. Can Dean pull him back?**

**As the** **end of all ends approaches, the boys are tried in new and old ways. Some new things appear. Old threats return. Some old ones gain new faces. New allies are created. Old bridges are burned. **

**Can things ever be the same? **

**Episode 1: Shadows Gather**

**Part 1: Cryptic Warnings**

**Part 2: A Dark Secret**

**Though the battle is impending, the boys realize there is no use in sitting around, waiting for it. So they go off in search of a new hunt. It's not long before the promise of a case draws them in. But turmoil between the pair rises when it is divulged that both aren't exactly being truthful...**

Dean looked at the road before him. No lights, no cars, not another person in sight. There hadn't been for miles. Just clean open road. The night had came and went as the predawn white, unearthly light washed over the endless empty grey line of road midst the white gold sand. It did him good to be able to relax and not worry. Not worry about other drivers. Not worry about demons. Not worry about the impending battle….

Not worry about Sam.

He glanced over to the passenger seat. His brother lay with his head against the window; sleeping with his mouth hung agape, drool dripping from young, full lips. He let out a soft moan and squirmed his legs slightly as he further pressed against the window, his peach cheek flat. A long scar running down his other cheek darkened Dean's train of thought for a moment, but no longer. Other than that, his visible skin was unbroken. But Dean knew better. There were endless scrapes and scars lying beneath the clothes he dawned. Even still, lying there so peacefully, it had a comical effect.

He couldn't help but chuckle a little. And this was who all those angels and demons are afraid of? It was hard to believe he, as the slightly-feminine, superstitious little boy he was, could lift a dang finger to them. He'd always seemed softer then Dean. Maybe it was just his youth, but Dean doubted it. At his age, Dean had already whipped through a hundreds of spirits and quite a few demons.

And then he thought of last night. The thirty-third seal. The half way marker. Essence of truth. He shuddered as the thought came. Everything in the deepest corners of his mind, assaulting him at once. And all of his thoughts and secrets revealed to anyone who could control their own mind enough to glimpse his.

That whole day, he and Sam stayed at an almost vacant hotel, hoping to hide their thoughts by going into seclusion. Dean had also lined their room with salt and marked a few devil's traps on the ceilings and walls with the hopes that with their own minds disrupted, their enemies would not think clearly enough to breech such basic defense. But that hadn't been his worst worry at the time, truth be told. Sam had.

At first, it almost seemed not to affect him and Dean wondered if it was the demon's blood which had made it so. That is, till Dean pretty well had his own mind under control and glance over at Sam's. He could feel his tenseness, trying to protect his inter most self from the whole world's eyes. Like a bursting dam, he failed and every slip up, every mistake, every bit of pain, all of it coursing out. The thought that one day he might be something he's not. That he might do things that weren't him. Every damn little thing those son-of-a-bitch demons and anyone else had ever tried to shove into his little head.

But what surprised and shocked Dean was the presence of something about Sam he hadn't known. Before he got a detailed look, Sam started to seizure, but he still saw a bit. It was like something was grinding away who his brother was. And then there was…

A shadow.

He didn't get much further, but chills ran down his back. What was going on in his younger brother's head? He had to wonder…Sam had run off shortly after that and Dean hadn't known where he went. When he finally found him, he was in sheer hysteria. He had needed Bobby's help to calm him and as a result, Sam had slightly pulled his shoulder.

If you can't save him, you'll have to kill him.

The words resonated through his head, clear as the day his father had told him before he died. They stunned him, making him feel anxious and unsteady.

Dean shook his head. "No, if it came down to it, baby brother, I'd be more likely to let you destroy me and this world before I cut away your life." He said quietly.

Damn it! Why the hell did this always need to be on his mind? It was those dang angels. It seemed like not a day went by that they hadn't seen fit to remind him of Castiel's promise, that if he didn't stop Sam, they would. Always, whether through some sign, an omen, or one of those sons-of-a-bitches coming down to say it to his face. And he was _trying_. But, how do you save someone from such a fate?

He pounded one of his fists on the dash, grunting. Sam suddenly flung up, the noise stirring him from his deep sleep. "What! Huh!" He slugged out wearily. He looked to the source of the sudden noise. Those big, luminous hazel eyes gazed at his face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Dean lied. "How ya feeling, Sammy?" Sam gave him a look that he'd learned meant one thing. I don't believe you. It lasted a long, hard moment.

But still, he answered after a time. "My arm hurts a little."

"Well, it should. I can't believe how hard you can be to calm sometimes. Took both me and Bobby to get you relaxed after the seal was over. I'm sorry if we hurt your arm a little. You're just like a little girl sometimes."

"Jerk." Sam replied, smiling.

"Bitch." He grinned back. The two both chortled a little, looking off their separate ways as they always did.

Then something hit him. It was moments like these he always cherished. It was these memories that had kept him from dying in the hospital what seems like so long ago. It was moments like these that had made him make the choice he made, to sell his soul in exchange for his brother's life. It was moments like these that kept him from becoming a demon in Hell. It was them…and Sam.

He glanced over to him. Sam's eyes were flashing slightly, like he was thinking about something. There was some sort of pain, and anguish grained on his face. He saw Dean watching and quickly changed it to a fake smile, but the look was still there, just muffled a little.

He tried to avert Dean's attentions. "So, where are we?" He asked, looking around at the desolate, unmarked landscape.

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. Somewhere in Nevada. Probably getting towards the border to California."

"Huh…how long till we're there?" Sam asked.

"Beats me. Could be another five or six hours." Sam let out a groan, as if the thought of only five hours was far too long. His hair was mussed up and he rubbed his hands across his face then through his hair, making it straighten out to a degree. "Listen. You need to get some sleep. You look like you've just been to Hell and back. And trust me. I know what that looks like. I did look in the mirror at that hotel…"

Sam did not seem amused. He only gave Dean a strange look, the shot back, "You need to sleep too. You don't exactly look like that chick back in Mirronto either."

Dean smiled at the thought. "She was fine, wasn't she?" Sam sighed.

"You know, I've driven her before. You don't think all those times that I had to save your ass was enough experience with the Impala?"

"Ya, ya, ya. I'm not tired at all. And to all honesty, I'd rather wait till we get to a hotel and crash for a while. This road isn't exactly glass." Even as he said this, they past over a particularly nasty pothole. The impact smashed Sam's head against the window. Dean chuckled while he rubbed his head. "As I had said, I'll pass. But we are going to need to start working as soon as we get there. Since you are already half rested, go back to sleep. I'll wake you if we stop."

Sam eyed him before reluctantly closing his eyes. It wasn't too long before his deep, telltale breathing said asleep. For a while longer, Dean drove without rest, focusing on the road as the only car they'd seen for miles, a bent-up old ford, passed them.

Then, once more it was more open road and the endless Nevada desert. A gust of wind picked up the white gold sand, swirling it in the air.

Suddenly, with out warning, lights flickered in his car in a rapid display. His windshield wipers clicked on and off and back on on their own accord. The Impala's headlights began to flash rapidly, and sparks showering the road. A storm hit suddenly, turning the skies black. Lightning crackled as the thunder let a loud bang fill Dean's ears.

Dean sighed. Reminder time again. Where are you, you little bustard? As if in answer, there came a noise from inside the Impala. Instinctively, he searched for its source in the back seat. But there was no one back there. There was no one else anywhere. It was just Dean and Sam in the Impala.

A hand suddenly touched his arm. Alarmed, he swerved to the side of the road, pulling over. "Jesus." He muttered, straightening out the wheel. The hand's grip on his arm never faltered, never swayed. Nor did its owner speak till he looked over.

It was Sam. He was confused for a moment. That is, till he saw the shadow of wings behind his back.

"You possessed Sam?" He said shocked. "You son-of-a-"

In a sharp, inhuman nod, Castiel spoke with Sam's lips. "I needed to speak with you…and find out his status."

"If you hurt him, I swear I'll…" Dean started.

"You'll what? Kill me? While I'm in Sam's body?" Castiel answered. "Besides, he's fine. To him, he's still sleeping. He won't even know I was here. And it will stay as such unless tell him."

Dean heaved a great sigh. Why did this kind of thing always happen to Sam more than it ever did to him? "Fine. But I was under the impression that we were impervious to possession."

"Demonic, yes. Angelic, no. Angelic possession is different." Castiel answered. Some how, the tone of Sam's voice seemed different. Smooth, rich, calm.

"How is it different at all? You take some poor bustard's body as a meat puppet. Demons do the exact same. How can you say it's different?"

"You may know more about possession than most anyone alive, but you still know nothing." Castiel answered. "All the symbols, hexes, charms you and Sam posses or have placed upon yourselves were and will always be wards against demons. Angels are different. Demons may have mimicked our design, but they have done it in different ways."

Dean gave an amused look. "Note to self, get some anti-angel charms."

Castiel was not amused. "Dean. You never will change will you." For a moment, Dean forgot who he was talking to by that all too familiar phrase. The real Sam always said that.

"As much fun as this has been, I would like my brother back soon here. Don't get me wrong, I love that you haven't gone all cryptic on me. But don't tell me you came down here and possessed my brother just for a little chit chat about the differences between demonic and angelic possession. What do you really need to say? It's getting creepy, hearing you use Sam's voice that way…"

For the first time Dean had ever seen, Castiel gave a short smirk. Gone in the blink of an eye, but still. Then Castiel gave another sharp nod. Dean winced. If he kept doing that, Sam was going to get whiplash. But the next moment he spoke. "I'll try and make this short." Castiel froze, as if thinking. His eyes just seemed to stare off blankly into space. A shudder went down Dean's spine as he realized how unlikely it was that Castiel was searching his own thoughts that hard.

A strange light suddenly appeared in his eyes. It wasn't fear, but it was about the most dismayed Dean had seen him. For all the times that he'd came to warn Dean, there was something different about his behavior. Like he was…sad…about something.

"You're running out of time. We're loosing him. The further he goes, the more he changes. Before it's too late, take care of him, Dean."

"And how, pray tell am I supposed to do that?" Dean yelled. "Tell me! I don't know what to do. You've told me over and over again the same damn thing! I don't know how to save him! So quit with this charade and tell me how to save Sam! I'll do it, you know! What ever you need me to do. Shoot some son-of-a-bitch, use some magical leeches to suck out the demon blood. Whatever!"

Dean heaved his breathes. His heart beet rapidly. Tears had weld up in his eyes, blurring his vision. He caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror. Blood had rushed to his face, turning it flushed slightly.

Castiel simply sat there, silent, holding his head with the tips of his fingers. His face belied little emotion. Finally, he spoke, his voice calm, quiet, deliberate, and smooth as a lake on a windless, boat-less day. "Dean, this is something you must learn for yourself. There's only so much I am allowed to tell you. But you need to calm yourself. You will do nothing for Sam by screaming at the one person who's trying to help you figure out what to do."

Dean sighed. It was true. He felt a slightly embarrassed. He didn't know enough about angels to try and force answers out of them.

Castiel seemed lost thought, his own hopefully this time. It was like he was there with Dean physically, but not in his mind.

He suddenly spoke once more. "I'm afraid I must leave, Dean. I need to report to my boss. Something new has presented itself."

Dean nodded and murmured his goodbyes. In an instant, Castiel was gone. Sam was back asleep. Though he began to stir as Dean revved the engine and pulled back onto the road.

Sam moaned. "Why'd we stop?"

"One of the tires was acting up a little." Dean responded. "Guess it was just my imagination."

"Uh. What happened? It feels like a train hit my neck…" Dean stifled a chuckle. If only he knew. If only he knew.


	2. E1: Shadows Gather, P2: A Dark Secret

Sam crossed his legs, anxious. "Tell me we're almost to a rest stop."

Dean grinned. "You gotta go? Cause you could always put it in a bottle and-"

"Don't even start." Sam answered. He shot Dean a stern glare.

"Ah so you do remember last time." Dean laughed. Sam's face flushed. With the look Sam gave him, Dean should feel lucky loocks couldn't kill. The "last time" Dean referred to hadn't ended well. The back window was open and Bobby was sitting right behind Sam and well... The fall out had been too embarrassing. Bobby still refused to sit behind Sam in car rides.

Dean had been way too angry about the smell it left at first to crack jokes, at Sam's expense, about the whole incident until Sam's hands were raw from scrubbing and a pine air freshener had been added to his car. It still hung near the dash.

"Nothing like the smell of piss and pine, huh Sam?" Dean smiled.

Sam shook his head. The whole thought, to tell the truth, made him want to go even more. He crossed his legs tighter.

"Hang in there, Sammy. A couple more miles and we're going to be at the Widro Woods." To this Sam clenched his teeth. Dean made a gagging sound as he stifled his laughter.

All of the sudden, pressure jarred at Sam. His body tensed. The laughing tuned off abruptly, along with all other sound. He looked over, hoping something had simply made Dean stop laughing rather than this. But Dean was still roaring in laughter, despite there being no sound. Sam took a deep calming breath, hoping it would pass as it had when this all had started. The feeling worsened, like ascending rapidly into the air.

Sam shook, his every muscle twitching.

"Not now." He mumbled to himself. His eyes went out of focus. He blinked hard, hoping to fight it. Everything was a blurry mess, things slurring into each other. He knocked his head once, hoping, praying something would snap him out of it. Inside, his stomach rolled in waves, heaving and swirling of its own accord. Bile rose in his throat, an acidic taste burning his mouth. He swallowed, his throat cracked and dry. In a vain effort, he bit his cheek, something which had always helped him with nausea when he was younger. A single jolt shot up from his chest, everywhere it hit bubbling as if it was alive. He could feel his control of the attack slipping away. His body shivered, like a child in the cold.

Fear began to grip him. Fear of the pain; fear of what Dean would say in the eventual day he found out. Fear that the car would not stop before the attack worsened.

Jolt.

He looked consciously to Dean. His messy form paid no head to the expression on his face, watching the road. Inside, Sam felt a slight pang of greatfulness.

He began to loose his sense of time, seconds blurring into minutes, smearing, merging together. His sense of direction had been long lost; they could be rising up to face God and he would never know it.

Jolt.

His head was spinning, making his reactions slow and muddled. He shook. A weight lay all over his body, which felt like a bomb near exploding. He pushed out feebly, his body set now in its full tremors.

Jolt.

This one almost keeled him over onto the floor. He caught himself, fingers grating across the window. He could feel his skin growing cold as ice. If he didn't get out soon…he'd have a lot to explain. He blinked hard again. A dark blur was visible just ahead. Widro Woods, he realized hopefully. He willed the Impala to move faster. Widro was his only hope.

Another jolt, this time not coming from his body but the Impala as it stopped, tires screeching across an otherwise clean road. Hs head throbbed and he tried to groan, receiving no sound still. He felt something sprinkle him. But he paid it no mind. His hands fumbled around for the door handle. He gripped the solid metal in his hands and was ready to pull when he felt a burning on his arm. The burning squeezed down and he tried to grunt. He tried to pull the handle wearily, but the door wouldn't move. The burning squeeze again and he turned to its source with an intense glare.

Jolt.

A shadowy figure he vaguely knew was Dean held his arm. His lips moved, blurry to Sam's eyes. He stuttered, considering trying to speak and make some excuse. But before he even was able to try and say another word.

Jolt.

It hit with such force, he had to fight from collapsing and going into seizures as he often did. He was sure if he could hear, he would be hearing a cry of pain or at least a grunt tearing from his lips.

Jolt.

Another wave of nausea hit him. His breathing grew heavy and hard, sweat dripping down his brow. He couldn't stay another second. He felt ready to jump right out of his skin if it meant escaping this. His hands fumbled for the handle once more. He could feel Dean's eyes burrowing into his skin. The door wouldn't budge!

Just before he was about to give way, he saw the problem. In a sting of crystal clear confidence, lasting but a second though still enough, he reached for the lock and swung open the door. He stumbled out of the car, almost falling flat. But he knew if he fell now, Dean would do something he or Sam would sorely regret.

With a push, he began to jog towards the forest, sure by now Dean was following him. He risked picking up the pace, the world still mere colors to his eye, like a washed out painting. He ran faster, knowing he had always been the faster of the two but also knowing if he fell, that was were he would remain till the fit was over.

Sam raced through the pines, his heart racing and rolling waves of shivers running down his body. He moved erratically; heading to no certain place, only knowing he wanted to get away. The trees towering above him came in as billowing clouds of smoke in his eyes. He had to force himself to believe this, lest he begin having delusions that they were the blackened souls of massive demons.

Jolt.

It hit him so hard, he lost his footing, pitching forward toward the forest floor. The force sent his face deep into the soil, tearing the skin in several places. He writhed, thrashing wildly and sending the settled forest litter flying into the air. Again, the acid rose in his mouth. This time he did not hold back, spewing acid onto the earth beside his head. His heart thudded in his head, still racing. The chills intensified made worse by the freezing ground.

Jolt.

Everything simply blurred around him as invisible daggers burrowed into his skin. His chest tightened. A shadow gathered within him. It fought for control of him. But Sam still refused to relent, biting his tongue to stay conscious. He fought a loosing battle though, he knew.

The endless cycle of pain and misery filled him, erasing the meaning of time. He wanted to cry out, but subconsciously, he remembered that he hadn't wanted to let Dean find him. Not yet. So instead, he just tried to bear it, often faltering.

Eventually, his head began to throb rather than scream; his breathing grew less erratic with the tension in his chest subsiding. His body calmed once more to gentle shakes. But Sam lay, silent and too afraid any movement would bring back the pain. His body relaxed a little more As his hearing returned, he could here his brother.

"Sam!" He called out in the distance, "Sammy?"

His voice calmed Sam even further. He risked sitting up, finding only the slightest throbbing greeted him

Sam had not told Dean a word about his attacks, though he knew in the back of his mind that Dean would find out sooner or later. Dean already knew something was wrong with him. And after today, Sam doubted much time would pass before Dean confronted him. And it scared him to think of what Dean might say. He had no clue what was happening to Sam, though. This Sam was sure of. Otherwise, he would have recognized what was happening the moment Sam's breathing had changed.

He had only told one other person about them. Ruby. Well, she wasn't a person, per say. But after the first one, shortly after Dean had come back from Hell, Ruby had sensed them almost. She had confronted Sam about them, as they had just been training before the attack. He had shrugged it off as a fluke, not even knowing at the time what was wrong himself. After his fourth, Ruby had confronted him once more. He admitted to her everything he knew about them himself.

He was determined to keep his attacks a secret from anyone else he could help. Bobby, other hunters, his enemies, Dean. Especially Dean. Everything about them terrified Sam. Their violent manner, the fact he couldn't stop them nor control his actions while they were happening. But the biggest thing was, after each, he felt less himself. That and he always gained a new ability afterwards.

Before they started, Sam had had premonitions, imperviousness to demon magic, immunity to demon viruses, and, with Ruby's help, the ability to kill a demon just by willing it. And he thought he'd been a freak back then. Now, he realized, was a lot worse. He could kill anything by willing it, cut down anything from the smallest insect to person or even a monster. He almost seemed to be able to sense danger often, faster then even Dean's honed senses could. And whether Sam worked out or not, every day he got stronger, faster, better. There were other, small things. Some had taken more than one period to develop. Some he could access at any time, where as others went on and off like a light switch.

Sam listened for a moment.

"Sammy!"

Dean's voice had gotten closer. He'd have to get up soon to avoid more confrontation. He gave a heaving sigh. As bad as today's had been, it wasn't the worst of them. That had been yesterday. Sam had gotten so crazy from it and the seal together; he had tried to distract himself by cutting himself with a steel blade. The pain he had felt was a relief compared to what he had been feeling the moment before. It had spread through him, the gentle, in-tone-to-his-beating-heart throbbing was a moment of clarity and salvation midst his pain.

But it did not last. Abruptly, it stopped, leaving him once more to the attack. That attack, he even passed out for a short time. But before he had, he was surprised to see his cut had healed over, not but a white scar and clothing with blood proved it had ever been.

The whole thing had scared the living daylights out of him. His abilities had never been physically visible. Always internal or hidden. It had taken him by surprise. The though still gave him chills. Suddenly thinking of it, he reached up to his face. Surely enough, his skin was completely smooth, save the scar he had. He shook his head. At least Dean couldn't ask what they were. He doubted such shallow wounds could or would scar.

He got up with a start, brushing the dirt from his body. He still had to go…

He quickly moved out of the whiff of his vomit still lying on the ground, kicking some dirt over it as he left. Soon he was far enough away and even a little closer to Dean's frantic calls.

After a short time, just behind him, the brush exploded as Dean suddenly appeared, his breathing hard and labored. Sam could hear his sigh of relief.

"You scared me." Dean said softly.

Sam straightened up, turning to face Dean. "I really had to go."

"Don't lie to me. That wasn't just your pee-pee face, Sam. Something's happening to you and I need to know what." Dean replied sternly. Here we go. Sam thought to himself.

"Dean, it's nothing." Sam answered, trying to keep as true of a gaze on him as possible. The two just sat there, Sam looking down into his eyes, their gazes locked in a stare match. Dean never faltered, not once. He kept his eyes locked and his face fixed in a stern frown. His gaze pierce right through Sam's charade, showing his tough boy eyes and expression for what they really were. It was a regular Winchester showdown…and Dean was winning

Finally, after what seemed an eternity of long, hard staring, Sam relented, backing down. "That's what I thought. Now tell me the truth, Sam."

What? Did Dean honestly expect Sam to give something this valuable up to him in an instant? A secret Sam had guarded so carefully, he'd learned approximate times and dates and took many precautions while on the road? Granted, this one came unexpectedly, but most often, between what help Ruby could and often did give and his own mapping out of the attacks, he usually knew most everything about when to expect them.

"There's nothing to tell." Sam responded, turning his back on Dean. He couldn't let it show, but tears had welded up in his eyes.

"Sam, you don't need to lie to me. Did you get hurt? Are you sick? Are you in trouble? Tell me so I can help." Dean said in a much sweeter tone. Sam said nothing. He could tell by his brother's sigh, he had as well.

Both Winchesters continued this silence, even when Dean lead Sam back to the Impala and the two drove off in silence.


	3. E2: Lullaby, P1: Survivors

**Author's note:**

**I am no stranger to writing stories like this, but it is my first ever Supernatural fic. I'm one of those types who caught a few episodes here and there from the show, but only got serious about watching it recently. I have just fully caught up on the show, though I could not watch every episode, as Youtube doesn't have all of them. So if I get something bluntly wrong that was a part of the story before, don't hesitate to correct me.**

**Also, Apocalypse is totally new ground for me, as I am planning a new writing style for it. Every update is not going to be my typical one-chapter-at-a-time thing. Oh no. On rare occasions it'll be a chapter, but most often, you'll find it is at least two long. My reasoning for this? Supernatural episodes are long and contain a lot of information. Plus, I'm going to have mini plots, just like the show.**

**But enough of me blabbering. Sorry for the long speech, but feel lucky cause I had a longer one lined up. With out further a due, here's Episode 2.**

**Episode 2: Lullaby**

**Part 1: Survivors**

**Part 2: Neptune's Song**

**Part 3: Darker waters (coming soon)**

**Summary: The papers have been reporting on a series of ship wrecks off the small town of Crate(Ka-Rae). Rumors have spread that malicious villains have been causing them. The testimony of a survivor only further muddles the case. The official word is "rough tides." But the brothers suspect a far more sinister, more ancient villainy. Little do they know, this case is far more than it first appears…**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. Nor do I own Dean or Sam. But the plot is mine. As is the town of Crate and all its inhabitance.**

* * *

The Impala pulled into the lot of an old, broken Holiday hotel that evening. As the last roars of the car faded, Dean eyed the place with pity. The lot was vacant, save a solo, deep green Ford Eclipse van. It was beaten up and a healthy coating of rust coated its steal frame.

The lot itself was broken. White lines, meant to frame the parking places, were faded, almost invisible. The lines all came in various shades of grey. The lot was spider webbed with cracks, the asphalt bumpy and torn. Random pieces of dead grass broke its wake.

And the hotel was in a similar condition. It was an old-styled type, making Dean feel like he had gone back in time again. Its mustard yellow paint was cracked and chipped in random places. The bricks on one corner had been worn off at some point, exposing worn-out foundation.

Dean shot Sam a glance and Sam looked away. A slight crushing feeling hit Dean. The two had not spoken since they had fought. He missed being able to tease his little brother. But no matter how he tried, it felt hollow to make a crack about something. The tension between them had become almost tangible.

The whole walk in, they still remained quiet. Dean kept his eyes low, watching the ground ahead. They both stopped as they reached the front door, unsure of who should go in first. After a long, awkward silence, Dean grabbed the handle. The cold metal was a wake-up call. The rusty door opened only when Dean rammed it, hinges screeching harshly.

Inside, the lobby was much like the outside. A rusty-colored paint covered the walls, obviously the only maintained part of the room. Cob webs covered the corners. There was one painting on the wall, tilted on its side. Even that was blurry and hard to make out. Spanning out the wall across from it was another door Dean guessed lead to the room. Kitty corner to that was the front desk where a tired-looking man sat. He was middle age, brown hair, brown eyes, thin metal glasses, well dressed, basically your average Joe. There was something written on his face though, a look which could not be erased. He barely glanced up at them as they approached the desk.

The rest was sort of a blur to Dean. They'd done this so many times; staying for days in hotels far worse than this one. It was rare that they got to stay in luxury. He handed the man a wad of cash and got the key to a room. It was nothing phenomenal. Nothing important. But then why did he get the feeling this was one of the last times he'd do this?

He sighed. Maybe it was just my imagination…He thought to himself.

Dean found himself staring at Sam, watching, searching, for any glimpse of the boy he once knew. Sam was going down a road Dean knew he would not, no, could not follow. He'd changed so much. No matter how hard Dean tried to deny it, Sam was no longer that little boy who'd tried to leave his past behind. Today, Sam had really made Dean worry. There was much to be desired in his claims of being "fine."

But this wasn't the first day Dean had felt there was something Sam had not told him. He was fading away. In the past few weeks, he'd eaten less. More and more Sam seemed tucked back, not himself. He slept less too. He tried to hide it from Dean, but every day Dean saw evidence of it.

In the corner of the room, Sam was changing slowly, his hands shaking, like he was fighting something. His breathing was always less steady now. It often seemed he was struggling to do normal things. His body seemed more town up, Dean noted as he pulled over his suit. Across his back, there was twice the number of scars.

He would often disappear at the most obscure times, returning covered in sweat or blood, often his own. He would claim anything from working out to being attacked by a rabid dog. But the look in his eyes said it all. Dean knew him too well to be fooled that easily.

Dean shook his head. Sam turned to face him, his hands fidgeting with the tie on his neck. His expression was almost emotionless as he straightened out his hair with his fingers and fastened on a false nametag. But hidden in those hazel eyes was a glimmer of something…something Dean didn't like.

He took a deep breath. "Sam. I need to talk to you…" Sam's eyes flashed, a subtle agitation in his face. "There's something going on with you. And you need to tell me." Sam turned away, not replying. "What? Are you afraid I'll be mad?"

"As I said its nothing." He replied coldly, moving toward the direction of the door. Dean was about to get up and stop him, till Sam turned. He stopped cold. There it is again! His eyes!

He'd though he'd seen it before but wasn't sure. He choked, trying to speak. The image had replayed, over and over in his head like a broken record. And now, it was there once more.

The irises were red.

It lasted mere seconds, but even that was enough to send a cold shiver down his spine. Sam did not wait to be stopped again. The door had slammed before Dean could say a thing. Sam's eyes had burned into his mind the first time, though this time he could see them far longer. They were not obvious to the untrained eye, the deep red of blood after sitting for a long time. And normally, Dean knew, demons had irises that always had different color. No one two demons had the exact same eye color. The only thing most had in common, in fact, was that their colors were always unholy, strange and variable.

But Sam wasn't a demon…

He may have demon blood, but there was no way he was a true demon. He and Dean had well equipped themselves against possession since that day, so long ago, when Sam had been possessed. The experience was not one Dean wanted to repeat. They had everything from blessings to tattoos, to the bags Bobby had given them, all against demonic possession.

Besides, in the car, the moment Dean had seen his glistening red irises, he'd splashed holy water on Sam in a fit of fear. There was no reaction. It had shocked him almost as much as his brother's convulsions. He'd chanted exercising rituals and tried everything he could think of, but nothing had worked.

He felt too weary to think much more, but it was still hours of counting dots on the ceiling before Dean had been able to sleep. Even them, visions of blood red eyes and Sam's convulsions haunted him, dancing in his head endlessly.

--

Sam hesitated for a moment before touching turning the doorknob. If this was what Sam and Dean thought it was, then they might even need back-up. Trouble was, Bobby was working on tracking down Lilith before she broke another seal and hardly any hunters could be relied on anymore. They always tried to kill Sam and because of Sam, Dean as well…

Sam took a deep breath and turned the knob. Inside, light flittered in the window, giving it the kind of glow the rest of the town lacked. At least the medical stuff was well cared for. The room looked like it could belong to a large city hospital. There were the usual ordainments, plants, paintings, chairs, the whole works.

At the center of a half a dozen machines lay a bed and it that bed was a man hooked up to the machines. Curled around his body, white hospital sheets starkly contrasted his rich black skin. He was fairly young, only a year or two from Sam's own age. And there was something about him Sam couldn't quite put his finger on. Then it hit him as the man's eyes flickered open.

Sam felt a deep pit in his stomach. He'd certainly known he might meet him someday. But in such an odd, sheltered place? The odds seemed unbelievable. But here he was, lying before Sam. It might be better, Sam reflected, to just have Dean deal with it. But with what had been happening recently, Sam wasn't sure he could find it in him to address such a delicate subject with him.

Sheldon opened his mouth to speak, but the moment he did, a fit of coughing took him.

Sam tried to think of what to say, but it seemed his tongue was tied. After waiting for Sheldon's coughs to die down, Sam had finally forced himself to speak. But before he had a chance, Sheldon let out a soft groan. He began muttering random, unconnected things off.

"Sheldon?" He said. Sheldon's eyes made contact with his. It took all of Sam's strength not to turn away as those piercing, all-to-familiar eyes met with his own. "I need to know what you remember. I'm here to investigate a possible case."

Sheldon raised a brow. "Hell's gates are guarded by one race or one race split to two." He mumbled. Sam shifted uncomfortably, wondering for a moment if Sheldon could possibly know who he was talking to.

"Please. Your testimony could help reveal valuable information." Sam said, his voice wavering. Sheldon did not seem to notice.

"The song can break your ears. Cover them well and guard your heart." He stammered. Sam realized Sheldon didn't even know what he was saying and heaved a sigh of relief. But his words troubled him. Sam knew when people said things, even barely coherent like Sheldon, most often, they were not sheer nonsense.

"Sounds like me and Dean were right…" Sam muttered to himself as he turned to leave.

"Dean, huh. My brother knew a Dean." Sam froze. "Someone told me he was there that night." Sam felt a cold chill go down his spine. He quickly exited, hoping Sheldon wouldn't put two and two together.

Before he was out, Sheldon finished what he was saying. "I'll make the bustard that killed him pay. I swear on his grave, he'll pay."

As Sam made his way out of the hospital, he pushed Sheldon out of his mind. Not that it would matter until he was well enough to be cleared out of the hospital, but still.

He heaved a great sigh, relieved to be outside and moving away from the hospital. They always made him feel uneasy; every time they went through the glass doors of the ER it always meant one of them was at death's door. Not once, even when they were kids, had going to the hospital been simply just a check up or such. Their father had insisted on doing everything himself so that their medical expenses would only be added to when one of them was damaged beyond normal care.

The fresh air did his head good. Although how fresh varied with each step. Sometimes the air was clear and clean as open country's. Other times, it carried the heavy scent of salt mixed with mildew and mold. Besides that, the air was much colder and wetter than it had been during their drive in the desert. Sam suppressed a shiver.

But once you got past the air, Crate was a rather quiet, quaint little town. There was very few people to be seen, most either staying inside or moved on. Many an old styled building had the same old sign hanging in the window, foreclosure notices and going out of business signs posted near or on the doors.

Most of the roads were tattered and torn up, median lines faded and weathered. Potholes large enough to take out semis dotted the asphalt. A few were filled up with water, breeding places for hoards of bugs.

To his left was an empty school yard, the windows boarded up and the name barely visible. Sam wondered if there were any kids in the town to go to school or if the funding for it just wasn't enough. Either way, the courtyard had turned into a field, a solemn, broken statue in its center.

The shipping yard was just as empty, not more than two, pitiful, small boats latched to its side. A light house on its far side sat, its beacon unlit. Waves crashed on the shoreline, making Sam believe with every crash they would take the whole town with them. The wood looked slick and slimy.

When Sam and Dean had found the stories on Crate's shipwrecks, it had been obvious the town was down on its luck. It wasn't even on a map, no matter how detailed. But it hadn't occurred to Sam that it would practically be a ghost town. Few of its people seemed to even acknowledge their presence.

But still, while he had been in the hospital, he'd seen a portrait on the walls, depicting a beautiful scene of a small town, children running this way and that, boats docking with healthy loads of fish, people lining the streets, happy expressions on their faces. Near the bottom, it was labeled Crate-1987.

But that portrait certainly looked different than the Crate lying before him. He couldn't believe they were the same town at all. Every person he'd met so far, from the doctors at the clinic to few people that passed him seemed to be nearly asleep, along with the town itself.

He took a step onto the dock, boards beneath him giving an alarming screech as they took on his wait. He could feel his danger sense rising and treaded with care, following his ability out onto the unsteady platform. Every step he take, the wood threatened to give way.

Out of no where, a piercing sound assaulted his ears. It was a single note, wordless and extremely high-pitched. Like nails across a chalkboard. Sam grabbed his head, holding it and covering his ears. It felt like someone had stuck a knife through his ear drum. The noise only got louder and louder.

He wanted to scream, to bash his head into ground. Anything to turn off the blasted noise! He looked around, hoping to locate its source. There was nothing, no one. A fog had started to set in, obscuring Sam's view of the rest of the town.

He fell to his knees, heedless of the wet wood beneath him. He clutched his head, pulling his hair. "Stop it!" He yelled in sheer desperation.

The sound cut off abruptly, as if following his command. Sam gasped, his mouth hanging open, gulping in sweet air.

Just as Sam realized his danger sense was on high alert, the dock gave way, failing under his weight. The crunch of the wood beneath him was so sudden, so surprising. The next instant, he felt his body plunging into the waters bellow.

As the icy water hit his skin, his nerves went on fire. His chest felt tight, compact from the freezing temperature. He tried to cry out but all he got was a mouth full of salt.

He kicked for the surface, but it was a feeble, half hearted effort. The longer his body was down there, the more the feeling changed.

He noticed how clear, how beautiful everything around him was. Every color seemed to be on fire. The waters tickled his skin, like rolling on a bed of down. The piercing sound of earlier had been replaced by a sweet, solemn note, soft and sad and beautiful. There were no words, but that did not make it any less beautiful.

Soon, Sam quit fighting, quit struggling. The waters were so soothing, so inviting, lulling him to sleep. He let his body drift, letting the current take him where it may.

A biting cold caught his shoulder and he reached up to try and brush it off. But it was firm. He started to fight to get away, but the voice, much louder this time, lulled him back.

With a surprisingly strong yank, he was out of the water, sprawled out on the ground. He lay there for a moment, clearing the salt water from his lungs.

"Stay out of the water." A firm female voice whispered rapidly. "Or your brother will be bringing you back in a coffin."

He let his eyes open, looking upwards toward the voice. A cloaked figure stood before him, her shape obviously feminine. Her hood was drawn, hiding her face from Sam's prying eyes Sam looked at her, puzzled. There was something a little off about her.

"Who are you?" He asked.

"You don't know me? Well, I know you Samuel Winchester. I've actually been waiting for you. But you go and almost get yourself killed the moment you get here." She sighed.

"For me?" Sam repeated.

"Yes, what are you, a parrot? Of course for you. I think you can help me." She drew her hood and Sam gasped. No wonder something had seemed off about her. She was a Siren!


	4. E2: Lullaby, P2: Neptune's Song

**Damn. I hadn't even noticed I accidentally posted the same chapter twice. Oh well, not it's fixed. Sorry the final part to this is taking so dang long**

"Quit looking at me like that." The siren snapped.

"I can't help it," Sam replied, his gaze not wavering. "I've exactly seen a siren before."

"And I've never seen a human up close. But you don't see me gawking do you?" For having such a sweet voice, she really had an attitude.

"Sorry." Sam answered bluntly.

He tried to look away, but his gaze still found its way back to her. At first glance, normal eyes might not see what made her different. But Sam knew most non-human races were as either far from human as a snake or almost identical, of which sirens were the latter.

She had deep brown hair with fell in waves to her mid-back. The irises of her eyes were crystalline turquoise blue and shone in the light of the evening. Her skin was pale and appeared to be wet every time she moved.

Sam's mind went into overdrive as he remembered everything he had ever heard about sirens. Their skin was cut into little sections, like scales on a fish, invisible till you got really close. Together they were about as strong as chain mail, but they needed to be constantly moisturized and polished by salt grains, lest they shrink and dry out exposing the siren's insides.

They had two sets of eyelids, like a shark or a crocodile. One was translucent and used to moisturize and clean and the other was as strong as their skin to help protect them when in a fight. Because of this, they appeared to never blink.

A thin, retractable, rice paper thick webbing connected their finger and toes. It made them adept swimmers.

Sirens admitted piercing cries, with changed pitch under water to a sweet, soothing sound. They often used this for hunting, driving birds and other animals insane and forcing them into the sea where they drowned themselves, listening to the siren's lullaby. Whales and other sea mammals would refuse to surface and also drown. Fish became slow and sluggish, easy for them to collect

It really was a brilliant hunting method. But there was one hitch. Humans would hear it and they too would follow the same reactions. And it was this the many myths on sirens referred to. Most cases were mere accidents, though there were a few who were jealous and drove men into the sea out of spite.

The siren before him cleared her throat, only speaking when Sam had quit looking her over. "Adrya." She said, gesturing to herself. She tossed Sam thick folder. "And I believe this is why you are here." Sam glanced down at it and was amazed. It was everything he and Dean had collected on the case so far and then some.

"You have something to do with this?"

Adrya shook her head. "But I know who does."

She knelt over, her face just inches from Sam's. He could make out every detail on her scaly face, but it was her eyes that really had him transfixed.

"I need you to do a little something for me, Sammy."

"It's Sam." He said without even thinking.

Adrya backed off a little. "Whatever. I need your help."

"Why should I help you?"

"Because I know something that you really need to know."

"What could you possibly know?"

"A little secret about a little demon friend of yours."

"Ruby?" Sam asked softly.

Adrya smiled. "Well, yes, now that you mention it. But it wasn't her I was referring to." She answered.

He glared at her. Why didn't she just tell him now?

"What was her name?" She asked, moving closer to him. "Oh ya. I think she goes by the name of," Then, so quietly he would not have heard if she wasn't practically making out with his ear, "Lilith."

Sam drew his knife and caught the siren's chin, pressing the blade to her neck. "Tell me now." He hissed at her.

"Nope, sorry. No can do." He pushed it further in, sending a trickle of blood down her neck.

"Tell me now." He demanded.

"Why?"

"Tell me or I'll-"

"Kill me? Please. You should know better. Tisk, tisk, tisk. Sirens don't die the normal ways."

"Tell me or I will."

"Do it. If I die, though, the secret will die with me. I promise. I am the last living being whom knows the full truth, save Lilith herself. And I don't even know if she remembers." Sam released a little and Adrya gave a gleeful smile.

"Besides, my little favor I want'll benefit both you and me. So you win more then I do." Sam took another long moment, glaring at her. She seemed unfazed, as if he was a little kid with a toy gun.

Reluctantly, he released her. She gave him a little mocking smile and flexed her jaw. "There's a boy." She said. She clucked once.

"I've been there, Sam. Revenge. It's a sour thing. Even years after what happened to you is over, you still want it, still need it. But most of the time, people don't come back from the dead. Feel lucky for that Sam."

"No, no one could understand. No one can ever understand what that bitch did to me. How fucked up I am on the inside…" Sam looked to Adrya; a sudden thought had hit his mind. "Why did you try to kill me?"

"Excuse me? I saved your life." Adrya raised her brow at him, her voice disgusted by his accusation.

"Back there, on the dock, a siren started singing. Nearly made me throw myself off the dock."

"Well, if you would let me explain instead of cutting me off every five seconds." She snapped.

"Sorry."

She raised her hand at him, her palm to his face. "Shut up." She shifted slightly. "Now, we both know why you're here. There's a group, known only as Neptune's song. And they want Crate."

Sam raised his voice to speak, but Adrya's glare and palm rising once more stifled his words. "They've been slowly destroying the town, as you can see. But that's not slow enough. Otherwise you wouldn't be here. They are blowing our cover. Sam, sirens are supposed to be extinct. And we almost are…"

Adrya sighed, cradling her head in her hands for a moment before running them through her thick hair. She looked away, out to sea. "Sometimes I feel like I am surrounded by idiots…Humans have such great numbers. In no time at all they could wipe us off the face of the earth. The only reason why we haven't is because we've managed to blend in. But that won't last if Neptune keeps at this…" She gave a cynical chuckle.

"And what am I supposed to do about it?"

Adrya met his eyes with soul-piercing intensity. "Take them out. Before more hunters arrive."

"Why me?"

"Because I knew you might sympathize with me. Most other hunter, if I'm not mistaking, aren't exactly a fan of you either. If they come here, you know deep down they will destroy me and any other siren that they come across. Just as they would destroy you, even after all the good you've done." Sam nodded, not saying another word.

Adrya looked surprised. "What?" Sam asked.

"Nothing. I just heard you were a bleeding heart. That my case would be lost on your ears the moment you knew I wasn't human and that I was asking you to kill without any further proof of true evil. Thought you'd be at least a little harder to convince."

Sam shook it off. "Times change."

"No. They stay exactly the same. It's people that do the changing." Her eyes flashed as she watched him, snapping up and down. He shifted, uncomfortable, under her gaze.

She grinned, a look of satisfaction on her face. Like she was happy to make him uncomfortable.

Sam flushed a little. "Where can I find them?"

"You? Alone? I don't think so. I'm coming." She turned towards the road. "You'll need proper weapons and this wouldn't hurt either." She tossed him a small bag filled to the brim with a collection of starfish, sea urchins, and shells. It stunk of a sort of old mildew and salt. "Brine's Mute. It'll tune your ears out of siren music."

She turned to face him. "Stay out of the water at all cost. Sirens are at their most dangerous. It's our element, but it's also our curse…"

Sam stood finally, at his full height, he towered over Adrya. She seemed still unfazed and turned toward the road and the wall of deep, milky fog before them. "We need to go. There's no telling if Neptune's Song knows you're out here and we've lingered far too long."

Before Sam could say a thing, Adrya was off, quickly disappearing into the depth of the whiteness. "Wait!" He yelled after her, plunging in. The mist was soupy and thick. Sam almost felt as if he was swimming. He looked around, hoping to see Adrya, but he couldn't even see his own feet, much less anyone besides him.

"I'm here." Her voice was right beside him, though all he could see was a shadowy, dreary outline. "Follow my lead." She said. "And be careful."

Sam let out a yawn, breaking the silence that had ensued between them for a mere moment. His feet seemed to weigh down on him, forcing him to drag them along. So much had happened with in the last twenty four hours, Sam hadn't noticed till now how heavy his eyes felt.

They were half way through town by now, faint figure of buildings lightly outlined by their mask. Sam tried to let go of his thoughts, hoping for sleep when they arrived back to the hotel.

But as soon as they neared the hotel, Sam knew something was wrong. He could feel his hairs rising on the back of his neck and his sense of danger felt as if it was on fire.

Cut into the fog was a horrible scene, well for Sam anyway. The line of salt he had so carefully laid across the door line was cut, the door hanging agape on its hinges.

With out sparing another moment to thought, Sam raced in, ignoring the flustered cries of Adrya behind him. He quickly past through the empty lobby, barely noticing the flurry it had been sent into.

A chill raced down Sam's back as he sighted the open door. Every defense Sam and Dean had put on the room was destroyed, even the devil's trap overhead. He glimpsed into the room, not liking what he saw. Many of the drawers hung open, some even clear off the hinges. A small amount of fog slipped in through an open window. Sam and Dean's clothes were scattered about and-

Sam froze.

Inside, there was a soft rustle. He slipped behind the wall, glancing over his shoulder. A black-shrouded figure stood, rifling through some papers on the desk. Like Adrya, Sam could not see the face or any other details about it.

He didn't think. He just did. In a flash, Sam drew his knife and rushed it, letting out a yell. At the last second, the figure turned and with inhuman swiftness, lent back, leaving the blade to cleave the shroud, sending the clear sound of a rip through the room.

With one hand, the figure caught Sam's fist, surprising him by the swiftness and strength of the cold fist's embrace against his. His fist shook with effort as he tried to regain control.

With the other hand, it retaliated, knocking its fist deep into his gut. Sam gasped falling to his knees. It wasn't a bad injury, but it would leave a nice bruise and hurt like Hell. He gaped, panting, his stomach in a swirling knot.

By the time Sam managed to catch his breath and was ready once more to fight, the figure was half way across the room.

Sam rushed him, catching him on the shoulder. The pair was sent sprawling to the floor. Sam took a big gulp of air and pinned the man down. The man wriggled under his embrace.

He shot out his knee with a sudden jolt, sending Sam across the room. He hit the wall, cleaving a low-hanging painting and could feel a bloody cut form where the corner sliced into his skin.

Sam recovered quickly and was once more on him, the two rolling across the floor, and both vying for control of the situation.

Sam raised his knife as he got on top once more, pressing the blade to the throat. He let out a loud grunt. The head flipped over toward the entrance and Sam followed his gaze, thinking there might be more.

Before Sam even had the time to take in that it was just Adrya, the figure had slipped out of his grip, racing for the window. Sam ran at it.

Just before the figure managed to slip out, Sam caught up to it. One leg hung out the sill. In a last ditch effort, he lunged at it, driving his knife into tough skin. The leg then dropped out of view and with a savage cry of pain, Sam's fight was over.

Sam panted, taking in precious air. "Neptune's?" he asked wearily. Adrya glared at him.

"You are one stupid son-of-a-bitch, you know that! What if that siren had buddies? I'll tell you what! They'd have you both right now and I'd have to save both of your sorry little asses."

"What would you have me do? Let them kill Dean?" Sam yelled back.

"Do you want to die or something?"

"I should have saved him!"

"There'd have been nothing you could have done!"

"I could have tried!" Sam fell to his knees. "I'm not loosing him. Not again. Not because of me…" His voice trailed off.

Adrya placed her hand on his shoulder. In a much gentler, tenderer tone, she said softly to him. "You're okay, Sam. If it's any conciliation, they want you, Sam. They won't kill him. Not if they want to get to you…"

"Story of my life." Sam mumbled, rising and turning over to the corner. "All of my life, things have been centered around some power I don't even understand." He turned, facing her. "And I don't want it anymore. My family died for it. My mom, my dad, even my grandparents. And that was before I was even born. Dean's died for me. It doesn't matter that he came back; it wasn't me that did it. I promised him I'd save him. I promised him. Promised. Such a fickle word. But I failed. It seems that is what I am best at. Dean saves me on a regular basis and I fail him just as often." Tears had weld up in his eyes by now, but he didn't care. Nor did he pay attention.

Till she smacked him, grazed her palm to his face with terrible force. Sam grunted. Adrya glared at him.

"You want to know why you fail? It's because of stuff like this. I'm not sorry. Sam you need to realize something. While you are standing here, crying, we could be doing something about it." She shook her head. "But no. You have to make a speech about it. Just shut up now and pay attention. Dean never thinks about stuff so much. That is how he manages to get anything done. If he thought about this shit half as much as you, you would be dead by now. Several times over. So we need to get going."

Her sudden outburst took Sam, by such surprise that he almost couldn't reply. He just stood there, listening, his face written with shock.

But she didn't stop there; she looked to him and asked. "They were looking for something. You know what it was?"

Somehow, Sam found his tongue. "Probably Ruby's Dagger."

Adrya nodded and began gathering random odds and ends. "Are you just going to stand there like a statue or are you going to help me save your brother?"

Sam nodded. "What do I need to do?"

--

Pain.

That was the first thing Dean felt as he became aware of himself once more. An unbelievable stinging coming from his head. That and an extreme need to itch at it.

He let his eyes flicker open, though he barely knew they were. It was dark, lit only by torch hidden around the bend. It only cast enough light to lighten the hue of the dark ever so slightly, barely a hundred shades over the color it was when his eyes were closed.

But for Dean it was enough. He glanced around, noting the bars encasing him and the stony roof over head. The dank smell was the final clue that made him realize he had to have been in a cave. A faint smell of salt wafted in from the left passage, foretelling that he was close to the ocean.

But how had he gotten here?

More importantly, where exactly was here?

His memories were muddled as the toxic waste dumps found off shore. Flashes of scenes hit him, half-remembered scent, fragmented memories, jumbled thoughts, and broken sounds. Nothing really made sense.

Nor did the pain coming from his head. He reached up to the back of his head and was surprised. It was wet, his hair caked down in a layer of something. He pulled away his hand and smelled it. Coppery. It assaulted him at once.

Blood.

And with that, his memories light ablaze. A crash echoing in his room. Him waking with a start. Fog misting into his room. Four shadows at the door. A piercing screech. Something hitting his head. Being dragged off as he lost his consciousness.

Dean shifted uncomfortably. Something was poking him in a rather unpleasant place. And then he remembered something else.

He reached into down to his belt. No surprise. It was gone. But then he reached bellow that, into his pants. It was still there. Ruby's dagger. He pulled it out, examining the wrapped blade. Now for the first time he was glad he had been smart enough to tuck it in a different spot.

He pounded his fist down. They had caught him with such ease. Why had he been so stupid as to not accept Sam's offer and get some sleep and-

Sam!

He glanced around the cell, half expecting to see his younger brother. "Sam?" He called softly. "Sammy?" There was no reply. A wash of relief and worry hit him. He wondered where he was. Normally, it was Sam who got captured more often. So to Dean, not seeing him here was a sign of possible doom.

Just then. Foot falls. Coming toward him. They were light and Dean was sure few men could even be that light. No this had to be a woman. He looked over and wasn't surprised to see he was right.

Carrying a torch which half eliminated the cavern was a young woman. She looked mid twenties, though Dean was sure his eyes were betraying him. Her hair was a light, Sunkist copper, her skin a smooth beige. Everything about her Dean could see made her someone he would normally try and pick up. Normally. But her eyes told Dean all the more he needed to know. They were a translucent, icy blue.

"Siren." Dean hissed at her. A smile hit her shell-shaped lips.

"Dean Winchester. Nice to see you."

"I can't say the same to you." He replied bitterly.

"Really Dean. Do you have to be so harsh?" Dean only let his distaste for her appear for a moment on his face. It wasn't the first time he'd met one of her kind. He knew what to expect. Years before, before Sam had joined him in what seemed like a lifetime ago, he'd hunted one down. He and his dad.

"That's me." He said laughing coldly.

"Short, muscular, witty, everything a girl would want." Something about her…about the way she spoke…seemed almost…familiar.

He bought his time; trying to figure out what it was…"What do you want from me?" He asked

"Oh Dean. We don't want you."

"Then why keep me alive?"

"Are you complaining? Besides, as I had said, we don't want you."

Dean caught what she meant in a moment. "Don't you touch a hair on his head. You hear me. You do and I'll kill you. I'll hunt you down and I'll kill you. I promise."

"Relax Dean." She closed her eyes. "Breathe in, breath out. Don't have a heart attack." She opened her eyes once more, unveiling black irises. "Why would I hurt him?"

Dean went to the front of the cage, hissing. "Demon."

"Now, now. Don't be hasty. I'm doing you a favor Dean." She moved close to him, just barely out of striking distance of his knife. She spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm killing two birds with one stone here. Eliminating a threat and catching your brother." She looked down at her cuticles, oblivious to the death stare Dean gave her. "He needs help with his changes."

"You lying little bitch."

"You know it's true Dean. I can see it in your eyes." He averted his gaze. "You know you are loosing him."

"He'll never join you." Dean whispered harshly.

"I wouldn't be so sure Dean. I have…ways. He'll turn. I assure you."

"What makes you think you can? Yellow Eyes couldn't. What makes you so sure you can?"

"I know something he didn't. Something, a weakness in Sam that he'll never rid himself of."

"What?" Dean asked, already knowing her answer. He adjusted Ruby's blade behind him.

Just as he thought, she leaned in to answer. "You." The moment she spoke it, Dean lunged at her, firmly getting a hold on her neck with Ruby's dagger pressing against her chilled skin.

"Go ahead." She whispered. "Do it Dean. Kill me, and you're brother's just one step closer to his destiny."

"What do you mean?"

She laughed cynically. "Now there's some valuable information." Dean pressed the dagger closer, slitting her neck ever so slightly. Sparks danced from the wound. A little more pressure and she'd be dead.

She breathed in deeply. "I missed your smell Dean." Her crystal eyes glimmered.

Dean froze, a sting of recognition hitting him. That's why she was so familiar. "Bella?"

"Nice to see you again Dean. But if you don't mind, I have things I need to attend to." His grip on her only tightened.

"I thought it takes centuries for a person to turn…"

"Normally, yes. But take a look around, Dean. This isn't exactly 'normally.' Lucifer… turned up the heat I guess you could say. Between the coming of the Apocalypse and your own escape from Hell, he didn't want to loose any demons."

Dean shuddered. Bella pushed away as he did and Dean willingly released her. She smiled. It was eerie how little she'd changed. The way she moved, the way she spoke, her every posture and gesture.

As she left, Dean knew how little she'd changed. It was obviously a sloppy change. As messy and unruly as they come. She was still the same Bella, with the same strengths and the same weaknesses. Just a different package…

* * *

**A long chapter and a lot of talking, but hopefully you guys can forgive me. I just needed to set up my own plots a little. But that is besides the point. Give me your imput. What do you guys think about Adrya and the sirens? What about Bella's return? I promise you she's back to her normal tricks. **

**Now that the set ups are done, here comes action! I won't be leaving the next update for a while though. I need to draw my inspiration from somewhere...**


	5. E2: Lullaby, P3: Dark Waters

**Hey guys. Sorry bout the super long-taking update. I hope it was worth the wait though. Worked my butt off for this chapter. It's a longer than most updates, but I decided also that there's going to be at least one if not more chapters in this episode left. I guess you can say I was "researching," making sure my ideas can work in this story. They haven't touched in on what I need for this story to be credible, thank god. I have to admit I really have fallen for the idea I'm about to crack and it won't take too long before it'll pass up my other monster story because right now, this one is way more fun to writ for. Lucky you guys, huh?**

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The air was locked in the biting cold of twilight. It was the kind of chill which stole your breath. Moonlight lit the thick cloud of mist before him, giving it a ghostly glow. Visibility was at almost zero between the tossing waves and thick fog bank.

Sam's skin felt as if huge chunks of flesh were being ripped away as the vicious wind assaulted him. But he did not move. Not for a second. His arms were bare and exposed, dew and sweat forming a thin layer of frost across his hide.

His muscles were tense, ready to react in any way he thought best. Bellow him, the boat shifted, rocked as a wave crashed into its side. His head flashed around. Where were they? Would they fall for the bait?

Another surge hit as a wave crashed into the boats side. Fortunately the anchor kept it well in place, though not without a loud, dismayed groan coming from the oak deck. The model itself was old, one of the few ships which still bobbed in the harbor.

The board creaked once more, moaning in protest under some unseen weight. Sam's hazel eyes flashed toward the source, but there was nothing, no one. There was a hard knot forming in the pit of his stomach; his thoughts shifted once more to Dean. He could only hope that Dean was alright.

He was determined to not loose his cool. Not when so much was at stake. The prospect of loosing his brother again had did not appeal to him. Even with Dean alive and well back from Hell, he had not forgotten New Harmony.

Such a pleasant name for such a bad memory. Nothing Sam had ever been through had ever been worse. Not even close. Sure they'd had their close calls. Heck, Sam could drown in all the blood his brother had shed on him in the last few years. Not even including New Harmony.

And then there was that small town, Broward County, back almost a whole year ago. He'd seen Dean die countless times, such that the moment the hellhound ripped into Dean's chest, Sam half expected to hear Asia singing "Heat of the Moment" again.

But those deaths had seemed surreal. Even the pain of seeing the elder Winchester get killed over and over without end had been nothing though. Not compared with New Harmony.

Three inches. He had been literally three inches away. Away from Lilith. Away from her beating heart. Away from ending the deal. From stopping the hellhounds in their tracks. From saving Dean from their claws…

The image of the doors flinging open flashed into his mind. The gust of wind as the invisible hound rushed in. The agonizing cry ripping from Dean's lips as the hound ripped him off the table. Sam could still see his chest tearing open. Could image the massive pool of crimson gushing from his brother's chest as he screamed in pain while the hellhound tore into his torso. Could see the light leave his eyes as his cries suddenly silenced into his last death rhythms. Could feel the blood on his hands as he gathered his brother's corpse afterwards, cleaning it himself and giving it a crude burial just outside the cursed town, lost in the forest where no one but Sam could find it.

Not a thought. Not a look. Never a time he bothered to do anything Dean-related did this not flash into his mind. Even if only for a second. To Sam, it had been hard ever since Dean had come back to tell if injuries Dean acquired were real or if they were just his eyes tracing where the wounds had once been.

Perhaps even more disturbing were the dreams. Endless cries of pain as the cruelest punishments befell the elder Winchester. Just imagining what he went through sent Sam's mind spinning. Hell was no joke. What force could change a person's soul, their very being, into a twisted cloud of black smoke that fed on the evils of their world?

But the thing that had bugged Sam the most of all had been the one thing he hadn't expected. The feeling of uselessness. He had been unable to defend Dean from the one thing he had sworn he would.

"You're not going to die. You're not going to Hell." His own word, his own promise, rolled on, over and over in his mind. He hadn't made it true. He had failed. But that's what Sammy Winchester did after all. Failed the people he cared about most in the tightest situations when they needed him. He brought Hell fire into their lives.

He failed Jess. He failed his father. He failed his mother. He had doomed everyone around him to their deaths. Even before his own birth, his grandparents had been killed because of him.

But Dean had always stuck with him. And through thick and thin, Sam and Dean had been an unstoppable force. Looking out for one another. Saving each other's asses more times than he could count. And he'd lost track. Long ago, actually.

But then it happened. Sam failed him. He got himself stabbed. His élan left his body. He left Dean. Alone. But instead of leaving Sam to rest, Dean brought him back. Back to endless faces which he couldn't save. Back to learn his own life was being brought back in exchange for the one person who had never failed him. At the cost of his blood. His life.

Sam wondered for a moment if Dean saw what he did. Endless cycles as the scene of Sam's own death playing in his head the way Dean's plagued Sam.

Sam had been determined afterwards to bring Dean back or lessen his sentence. Anything. He had taken to heart what Dean had said though. No more deals involving Hell. But that didn't mean he couldn't make other deals. Ruby had also hinted that if he killed Lilith, Dean's soul might go free from its chains in Hell. Might.

But Sam had done nothing. It was those angels. Why had they taken so long though? Why had they not bothered to break Dean's deal? It would have save them both a heck of a lot of strife. Why had they waited so long to save him? Four months in Hell, even if Dean claimed he couldn't remember, were always written on his face.

Noticeable changes had also happened. Dean seemed more serious, though only by a small degree. And he had nightmares. Dean wasn't the kind of person to be scared of such things, but since Hell, he barely slept without waking up with a start, often fighting and yelling at unseen things. It really made Sam wonder what had happened.

Sam sighed. He needed to stop doing this to himself. To stop continuously thinking about such things. Dean was back from Hell. Sam should be happy. Should be satisfied. But no matter how much wanted to ignore himself, visions of blood drenching his hand hit him… he wasn't satisfied…

A flash of motion returned Sam's attentions to the real world. The sky had gone dark as clouds rolled in over the moon. The wind had picked up, swirling the now-dull mists in their own miniature whirlwinds. The smell of mildew mixed with salt coated the air.

Water splashed across the ship's side provided the only sound other than Sam's pounding heart. He could feel his head spinning, the word "danger" lit-up like a neon sign in his mind.

His eyes flashed around, hoping their plan would be good enough. He hoped Adrya would not fail him…His eyes darted toward the left side of the captain's cabin, a knot of apprehension twisting in his stomach.

A simple, small shell lay there, out in the open. A small crack down the center demonstrated how tender the shell was. It would seem nothing to the unobservant eye, but Sam knew better. It was just what he was looking for…

A low drone suddenly filled the air. Sam threw his hand up to his ears instantaneously, dropping to his knees. The drone intensified slightly as Sam collapsed the rest of the way, trying his best to not stop no matter how tiring his exaggerated emotions had to be.

He let his body thrash, a fresh layer of sweat dripping anew from his brow to mix with the haze above him. He yelled, his voice filled with feigned pain.

He began to move himself very strategically toward the mast. The drone kept on, but he could not be sure how long he could use the cover the sound provided without giving away his charade.

Soon his head found purchase on the great post. He grunted as it hit, pain erupting from the back of his head. Still, it was not loud enough. Not convincing enough. With one mighty stroke, Sam brought his head down once more on the post, not disappointed to hear a loud crack as his head throbbed with pain.

Instantaneously, he dropped his body. The fake convulsing stopped. His arms were sprawled out across the deck, one of them twisting uncomfortable to the side. He could feel something prodding his side and sometime during his display, a sliver slipped into his thumb. His potion was awkward at best. But he dared not move. Not as his ears picked up sound.

Light footsteps. From all sides. They were here. They'd fallen for it…

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The chill was constant. Gnawing, biting, sharp. No matter what he did, it was still ever present. He doubted even if he could build a fire it would do any good.

At least he'd be able to see though. It was near impossible to tell if his eyes were opened or closed most of the time.

After a few hours, it became evident that Bella had drugged him at some point and time. Dean felt worse than he had a week ago after wasting the day away drinking a mix of vodka and beer. After the buzz was gone, it felt as if he had been puking out his insides. This feeling was just as bad if not worse.

The wet floor before him was slick. This much he'd learned after he'd tried to fumble around his cell, hanging on to the scarce hope that the demon had been cocky and left something out in the open. Instead he'd fallen flat on his face. He could still feel a light sting coming from his left knee.

Ever since, he'd barely moved, just listened. The main sound which greeted his ears was the drip-drip-drip of the stalactites on the ceiling as they slowly grew to meet their counterparts on the cave floor. Occasionally he heard a stone shift or even once or twice distant footfalls. But mostly, it was just the dripping.

In the absence of anything else to do, Dean tried to avoid thinking about anything. In general, he miserably failed. Flashes of eyes alight in hellfire. Tortured screams filling his mind, both his own and other damned souls.

Why did he get another chance?

It had been a constant question on his mind. No matter what Sam or anyone else told him, he still didn't feel like he should be here. He should be rotting in Hell still. Or maybe like Bella he should be a demon, though he doubted he could be turned as fast as she was.

It was a truly strange feeling, knowing that the girl he had met mere months after selling his soul was now the creature he hunted, a demon. She had been the girl he was most confused about. She had been the bitch who stole the rabbit's foot from Sam and almost got him killed. She had been the hottest girl he'd ever known. But she'd tricked them, betrayed their trusted and stolen the one thing that could have saved her and Dean. And it would have. But instead she let herself go to Hell.

Hell…

The word sent a familiar cold chill down his spine. No matter how hard he tried not to think of it, it still crept up on him, into his waking hours. He could still see flashes of hellfire, the torment of the black shadows called demons. The hooks in caught in his flash and a searing pain. His worst nightmares materialized in front of him…

Yes, he remembered Hell. It tasted a lie when he claimed he didn't. How could he ever forget such an experience? To say he forgot it would be like saying you forgot you lost your leg. Hell was a part of him now. It was a part of his identity, part of his soul.

He'd never really fully appreciated what his father had done for him, going to Hell on the spot like that. Sure he had an idea what it meant but he never fully understood. Until now. All the pain, all the anguish. Every moment in Hell was worse than drowning on earth and hurt more than being skinned alive. A second in Hell seemed like a month on earth. Not a friend in sight, only endless dark, terrible figures on demons.

He had recognized some of them even. Demons he himself had returned to hell come to torment the humanity out of him, to switch him into a demon just as they were.

Dean shook off his thoughts. Angst could wait. Right now, he needed to get out and warn Sam about the demonic sirens. He took a moment to ponder how weird that was.

Cautiously so he wouldn't slip again, Dean rose and extended his hands out so that he wouldn't run into the bars ahead. With calculated steps, he moved forward; with each step a soft slosh from the wet earth greeted his ears.

His hands met cold metal and he grasped it, the condensation on the moderately thick bars sending chills down his spine. He ran his hands upwards, trying to gauge how tall it was and if there was any way he could climb over. Standing on the ball of his foot, he still hadn't reached the to and he couldn't reach any higher. After all, he wasn't a fucking ballerina.

He let out a deep sigh. There goes one idea. Fortunately, he had a heck of a lot more than one idea. He dropped down and felt the cave floor. He hadn't expected it to be anything less than what it was though, hard. Made of cold slate.

No digging out obviously. And he had no tools other than Ruby's knife to get himself out…

A thought suddenly struck him. He slipped out the dagger, the hilt warm from his skin. With an almighty lunge, he plunged the dagger down with a moderate amount of force. But it was enough, he realized as a pleasant crack hit his ears. He reached down and was not disappointed to feel the slate had split into large pieces. He scraped one out, heedless of its jagged edges splitting the skin on his fingers. It was a sizable piece. He grinned to himself as he placed it by the bars and set about retrieving the next one…

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Light flashed behind his eyelids, coming off a bloody color. The sound of water sloshing around was the only other real thing to meet his senses, besides a few random whispers coming his captors. It took all the control he had to keep from flinging his eyes open every time an icy hand brushed his or he heard someone whisper something about him.

Fortunately, all they did was tie his limbs together loosely; they didn't knock him out further and they were fairly gentle when handling him. He thought to himself silently that he would make their deaths quick and painless as he clutched his hidden weapon closer to his flesh.

He could hear Adrya's voice every so often and had to struggle to remain blank and emotionless. It was good that she had made it in; that way, if something went wrong, Sam would always have her to back him up. Despite himself, he had really come to trust and respect the siren. She was a bitch and way too serious, but she was also straightforward and honest.

He gritted his teeth slightly as the boat they were in collided with the shoreline. Once more, cold hands gripped him and he almost thought about waking so that he could avoid the feel of them gripping both his shoulders and his knees. One of the hands gave the lightest squeeze, so subtle it would be uncatchable to the naked eye.

He could feel the change in the air, sounds, and the feel of the sirens' paces changing as they shifted from the dock to the beach to the cave. Even less light hit his eyes now, all of it coming from, he knew, torches.

For the longest time, he put up with the awkward positioning his body and an irritable itch on his nose. The cold hands and his shirt scrunched up on his back, exposing skin to the chill of the cave did not help.

"Get your salty fins off my brother." Dean's voice suddenly snapped.

Out of nowhere, Sam suddenly crashed to the floor as a loud series of grunts and metal on metal hit his ears. His eyes snapped open as Adrya ripped off the bounds on his hands.

"Finish untying yourself." She yelled as she turned to face the other four sirens. Sam wasted no time slinging the bonds off his legs. Between Dean and Adrya, the sirens had their hands full, both wildly swinging. Luckily Dean seemed to see that she was on their side. But even still, it was pretty hard to tell her apart from the rest of them. Each looked very similar to her eve though their eyes were much different and he knew Adrya had no direct family left. Sam drew his weapon and rushed forward.

A male siren met him with a great lunge. His dagger whizzed toward him wildly. He turned away from the blow barely in time as a rip hit his ears and he felt the cold wind his flailing limb created hit exposed skin. The left side of his shit had been ripped horizontally.

He retaliated, plunging his short dagger forward in one skilled motion. The siren ducked down, effortlessly evading his attack. Sam adjusted his trajectory downward accordingly and the man somersaulted out of the wary, though not fast enough to avoid a haircut. He slashed at Sam's ankle as he slid under, landing on the opposite end. Sam grimaced as he felt the onset of a headache and knew that wound would not last more than a second. He vaguely saw Dean growl in frustration as he saw his little brother double over from the wound.

He didn't let it last for more than a second, springing back up. He shifted into a sturdy stance which favored his right ankle to give his left time to heal stance. The siren looked rather pleased with himself, lightly panting. He gave a cocky smile and strode forward as if he had all the authority of death itself. He took such slow, dramatic steps, and Sam feigned intimidation. His ankle burned as new skin covered it.

The siren took another dramatized step but the instant he did, Sam rushed him with renewed vigor. In an instant, Sam was on him, forcing the man to frantically parry his blows for his life. Sam got in many great thrusts, covering his opponent with bruises and cuts while not receiving any of his own.

With one particularly powerful downward thrush, Sam disarmed his opponent and cut off one of his finger. A cry of anguish escaped his lips as blood gushed out, turning the slippery ground red. Sam advanced on him, ready to finish it as the crimson blood poured out, squirting on his pants in tune with his heart.

As if on cue, another siren flipped to the first's side, her weapon much bigger than Sam's. He backed off, using his long arm to his advantage. Satisfied, the male siren retrieved his weapon, covered his wound, and slipped into the background while the girl continued her assault on Sam.

Sam pushed away. There was no way he could get in any attack with out getting as much as he dealt out. She was not as skilled with her weapon, but it didn't matter. He slipped away, catching his breath for a moment whilst the siren gradually made her advance.

Sam took a moment to look to his side at his brother, who was near on the other side of the cave, barley visible behind a rather muscular female siren. She seemed like more than enough for him, but even in the tense situation, Dean caught Sam's eyes on him and flashed a quick, cocky grin before yelling. "Come and get it you bitch!"

Sam suddenly thought of something and slipped further away from his attacker, scrambling towards the back wall. She was close on his heels and he didn't get long, but it was long enough. He extended his palm, holding her suspended right where he was.

"Let me go." She hissed at him, her sapphire eyes flashing in anger and her pointed teeth bared. He gave her a look.

"Nah, I like you where you are."

"You cheat…"

"Hey, it's not like this isn't a fair fight." Sam answered. "You have your singing and water thing and I have this." He gave her a grim smile as she struggled against his power. His head throbbed slightly as her protests grew. He quickly ended them, hitting her jaw with all the might he could muster. Any harder and it may have broken his fist.

Sam panted a little and wiped a small amount of blood away from his nose as he turned back towards the fight. He wasted no more time and joined the two, who were encircled by the sirens back-to-back fighting.

"Took you long enough Sammy." Both said in unison as he rushed in, taking one of the sirens off guard.

"Dean's the only one allowed to call me that." Sam muttered as he took another lunge at the female siren he was fighting.

"Whatever." Adrya answered, her attentions really on the male.

"Would you two stop flirting?" Dean growled

"We're not flirting!" Sam and Adrya jinxed. "She's not my type." Sam went on. He grunted as the siren gave a particularly hard blow, almost sending him backwards.

Sam's head was pounding and he was just about ready to cave when suddenly he gained some leeway on his adversary. His blade cleaved her hip and she near doubled over. No sooner than she did he kicked the blade out of her hand and held her by the throat.

Dean had his cornered and Adrya's was dead; said siren was busy wiping her blade on a cloth. Sam was just about ready to kill her and leave when a humming sound suddenly filled the air. He was about to dismiss it when he heard Dean yelled.

"Shit!" Sam cursed as he realized what was happening. They'd forgotten! How could they have forgotten? His attentions went to Dean, who had his hands at his ears and was just about reeling from the terrible sound. The siren in front of him lashed out, his fist hitting Dean in the gut; Dean doubled over in pain. In one swift motion he kicked Dean the rest of the way off his feet and Dean's head hit the ground with a sickening crack.

"NO!" Sam screamed. The siren before him attempted something to a similar effect but instead of knocking him of his feet, she pissed him off. With one swipe, her head was gone and he flew towards Dean's attacker, murder in his eyes.

The siren grabbed his brother and the knife quickly, holding him for dear life as a fellow siren—the same one he'd knocked out earlier—came to her side.

"Don't take another step, tiger." The one holding Dean growled, her voice like ice-cold water. "If you value your brother's life, not another step." Sam could see Dean's chest as it rose and fell, and stood motionless, at a loss for what to do as a twisted smile crossed her face. "Good boy."

The one standing grinned. "Not a fair fight, remember?"

Sam glanced at Adrya, hoping she had some answer. She had an odd, detached on her face. He looked back at Dean desperately, then at the twisted-faced siren approaching him to take his knife. He couldn't let this happen. Not when they were so close to getting out…

The torches were suddenly blaring like strobe lights, flashing on and off rapidly. He smiled as he realized it was Adrya. The torched flashed off, holding on for just enough time that Sam was able to rush past the siren, slicing deep into her side as he passed, doing a somersault and landing next to the other one. He reached for her neck, slamming her backwards to the wall with his dagger poised for attack as the lights evened out.

"Let. Him. Go." He said, punctuating each word with a violent shake. The siren's crystalline blue eyes flashed with fear. She let Dean's limp body roll off her lap and nervously pushed her light copper hair back. With in a half a second, Adrya was there and took over Sam's position.

Sam turned his attentions to Dean. A dark blood had mattered his hair to his scalp where his head hit the pavement. Overall, Dean looked pretty much okay other than that. Both his knees were exposed and two fairly fresh scabs covered his knees and his cloths and skin were matted with mud and dirt. He had one knick on his shoulder and his nose was pretty scraped up from the impact, but other than that, he really had looked much worse for where before.

Adrya cleared her throat. "We should get going."

"What do we do with her?"

"I don't really know my way around here…she could lead us to the rest of them."

"I need to get him out of here. He won't be any good to us and I don't want anything to happen to him." Sam said, looking down at his brother.

"Look Sam. They probably already know you are here. And if they don't, they will once they find these or that their prisoner is missing. He's no safer out there alone than he is with us."

"But he might have a concussion…" Sam replied, his argument waning.

"And what good would it do you to bring him out now? Neptune's Song will be looking for you and their prisoner. You leave him anywhere and they will find him. Believe me they will. And then we'll be back to square one. You try to stay with him and protect him and they get you both. The only way to do this right is to take care of it now, Sam. When you still have a little bit of surprise."

"Okay…" Sam agreed grudgingly. He was really beginning to hate her for her cynical reasonability.

Never the less, they bound the siren and stuck a charm on Dean just in case, so that if he woke, the siren song would not effect him. Sam struggled to get Dean's body over his shoulder in a way that was easy to move but wouldn't look completely and utterly wrong to Dean when he awoke. He was dismayed to find maneuverability and the look of it could not coincide peacefully.

Adrya chortled as she looked over to see Dean's hands practically touching Sam's butt and his leg tied loosely like a shoulder bag to Sam. He whacked her lightly in the arm. Why couldn't she be serious like she usually was?

Adrya gripped the siren close, keeping a knife at her neck as Sam secured his own in a safe place and grasped the hilt of Ruby's dagger. When Sam finally nodded at her, Adrya hissed into the siren's ear.

"Listen. You are going to tell us where to go. And if you are a good little sea-witch, we'll let you go when this is over. And if you are not, well…I'll let you use your imagination." She said as she stuffed the gag past her shell-shaped lips.

Sam grabbed a torch from the ground. And the group left off into the darkness.

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**I actually loved writing that fight scene. Jeeze it was fun. I got all amped up on the Pirates of the Caribbean remix. Damn awesome song.**


	6. E3: concert, P1: Prelude

**So this is a part of my thanksgiving mega update part 1. Yes, there will be two different times, one now and one closer to said day of major update. Can't even begin to tell you guys how any damn words I've written. And being that I've written so much here, I've really needed stuff to get inspiration off of, which entails loads of caffeine, sugar, and songs to go with almost every dang scene. So I need to give credits to diet coke and NOS for the caffeine and Hershey's for the sugar.**

**In this and actually the next chapter, Sammy's song is the same for every scene he's in: Animal I Have Become by Three Days Grace. Fits even better in next chapter. Listen to it and trust me, you'll get it. Dean's song in this chapter is Miss Murder by A.F.I. This is mostly due to...well, you'll see... Adrya's is Elegy by As I Lay Dying. When you think Adrya think scream/heavy metal cuz that's what you're going to see her most often :). I usually don't like scream but it really does suit her, her race, and her personality.**

**Episode 3: Concert**

**Part 1: Prelude**

**Part 2: Cresendo**

**Part 3: Encore**

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Sam crouched low, the rough outcrop poking his skin. In their small cave inside a cave, he had built a small, smokeless fire towards the middle, casting a soft light, which seemed to amp up shadows. He was careful to feed it with plenty of the materials Adrya had provided him, conserving them so that they wouldn't run out and be forced to search for an alternative means of lighting.

He let his eyes wander over to Adrya. She was next to their prisoner, holding a knife to her neck as she secured the bonds on her. She'd stop protesting long ago, after Adrya's threat became all too real when she cut into her on the neck, leaving a shallow gash in her wake.

As he rose, he could feel the lightest throbbing coming from where his wound had once been. While his body now healed itself pretty much alone, that didn't mean Sam's nerve endings couldn't be damaged. It was a lesson in his own anatomy he loathed. And just because his wounds closed themselves didn't mean he didn't bruise or get sore. He was now, in fact, paying for carrying Dean's dead weight.

Sam flexed his shoulder back, feeling a dull throb. He looked downwards toward Dean, whom lay deathly still. He hadn't stirred once while they were moving; which, Sam thought grimly, was both bad and good. Good in that Dean would have refused help had he awoken, that coupled with the awkward way Sam was forced to carry him. Bad in that Sam had no idea what was wrong with him and wouldn't—couldn't—know till he was conscious.

His eyes flashed and for a moment, he could see the deep gouges across Dean's chest once more, breaking the once smooth skin. Could see Dean's lifeless green eyes behind their lids, the last desperate cries ringing on his ears once again for near the millionth time.

He shook it off. Dean was going to be all right. Dean was all right. He had barely been hurt, after all…

He eyed his older brother. His chest barely rose and fell. But that was normal for Dean. Sam had been used to it before. But now, every little thing that could be a problem was for Sam.

He leaned over and placed one hand next to Dean's nose. A light, feathery stream of air caressed his skin as Dean breathed out. Sam gave a sad smile as he stood straight once more, satisfied for now. Though the head wound looked bad, part of him knew it was superficial. Dean would be alright, no concussions, no brain damage, just enough force to knock him out temporarily.

He moved to the front of the little cavern, staying on the wall as he peered out. He could see randomly placed lanterns and tents along with a few fires and the shadowy figures of a few sirens. They were not more than twenty yards away from the group's current location. Sam tried to gauge the number. Though his rough estimate could be off by dozens, he knew he could do it if he had to.

He turned back to Adrya and Dean. Clinging to the shadows till he reached his brother's side, Sam eyed the gag in his mouth. He knew he would freak if he woke with it in, but there really wasn't much choice. Either way, Dean waking up would not be the quietest act in the world. But this way at least this way, he would have a moment to think and hopefully would see that he wasn't tied up and think better of flipping out.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Adrya coming to him. But his eyes never left Dean as he crouched over and for near the fiftieth time checked his pulse. His warm was a reassuring sign.

"I need you to look after him." Sam said firmly. He could just see in his minds eye with a scowl on her face as he spoke the words. But he didn't care. He wasn't leaving Dean here alone.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. I'm not leaving him here alone."

"I'm not going to let you go alone." He still didn't look at her.

"Yes you are."

"Sam…"

He finally turned and looked at her, his gaze as stern and unwavering as Dean's he realized. She had that stubborn look on her face that Sam had seen at least once every time they spoke. "Look. Here's how it is. Either you stay here with him and I'll go ninja and get the job done or you'll go by yourself and I'll take him to the hospital. But if you could do this yourself than why the hell did you get my brother and me involved in the first place? Somehow I highly doubt you can. So your staying here if I have to shut this cavern like the damn cave Jesus was sealed in till I come back. I'm not leaving him with that scum. No offense."

"None taken." The siren in the background voiced.

Adrya flexed her jaw, a dismayed look on his face. Sam smiled inwardly to himself as he realized that this time he was the sense making one and he could tell she hated it. She didn't protest anymore as he prepared to leave.

As he slipped out of the cavern, he could hear her yell after him. "Fine. But if he wakes up and you are not back within an hour, I'm going to hunt you down." He smiled to himself. Sure she would.

He couldn't help but look back once more. He had been uneasy about leaving Dean ever since he'd come back from Hell, but for some reason, at that moment, he felt as if he left, he would never see him again. Like he was leaving him forever. And he didn't know if it was real—one of his premonitions or "feelings"—from the demon blood or if it was just his nerves getting the best of him.

But he had no time to think much about it as he spotted a siren. He ducked behind a tent as the siren slowly walked towards him, oblivious to the danger she faced. He gripped his blade tightly and waited, his body in a real runner's stance.

When she was less than two feet away, he sprung at her. She had no time to do any form of reaction and within seconds, the blade lay lodged in her gut as he held her mouth tightly to ensure she stayed for the most part silent. Her body writhed for a moment, struggling to be free as blood poured from her gut. He ripped his blade down and her body went limp.

He dragged her body over behind the tent. A tarp was conveniently lying there and he spread it over her corpse so no one would know till it was too late.

He turned as he wiped the bloody knife across the inside of his tarp. There was another shadow coming towards his and he prepared to attack once more…

* * *

An extremely tight feeling in across his jaw coupled with the dry soreness of letting your mouth hang open for hours were the first two things Dean was aware of as he woke. An endless list of discomforts followed. His head was pounding and there was this terrible ach. He could taste blood in his mouth and grimaced as he felt a large, jagged cut across his tongue. His whole body was achy and covered in random cuts and bruises. There was a white-hot pain resonating through his knee. His arms and legs, in some places, were numb. But he could feel nothing life threatening.

He let his eye flutter open and gave a muffled groan as light overwhelmed them. It wasn't that super crazy bright, but to his eyes, the world had been black for so long, the sudden light was overwhelming. Letting his eyes adjust, though, even for one, pain-staking moment was not on his list of importance and within a second Dean forced himself up despite his blindness.

That was the first time he noticed that his hands and his feet were unbound. He stopped himself, baffled by this fact. Why gag him but not bind his hands and feet if he was captured? Unless he was in some cell…but then why gag him? They hadn't before.

He let his eyes wander around the cave, searching for some answer. With in a second, he spotted something and his stomach dropped. It was a woman. Her brown hair fell down to her mid back and she had an angled, beautiful face. She was the type of woman, in fact, that Dean would normally hit on…except her eyes told him what she was. Another damn siren…

As his hands went to his mouth to slip the gag out, she finally seemed to notice he was conscious.

"One hour on the clock." He heard her mutter to herself before speaking louder, clearly addressing him. "Good. You're awake."

Dean groaned. "Where am I?" he asked, his voice dry and raspy. He stretched his jaw, feeling a deep-rooted pain.

"What do you remember?" She asked.

"I remember your friends kidnapping me. I remember climbing out of that damn cell and fighting. Then there was the most terrible sound. Then I got a face full of dirt and that's bout it. You bitches capture Sam 'n' me?"

"No, and I think I deserve some respect. I'm the girl that saved your sorry ass."

"Ya, I'll have to get back to you bout being grateful. Never was a graceful riser."

"Well, I see Sam got all the manners in the family…" A sick feeling hit Dean. He'd forgotten.

Bracing himself against the wall, he tried to stand. A jolt of pain ran down his leg as his knee burned. He near screamed as he fumbled, nearly collapsing. Dean realized as he tried once more to rise with a sick feeling that at some point, his knee had not only been broken, it had been shattered, pulverized. He winced as he put shifted all of his weight to the opposite leg. "Where is he?" Dean asked, his voice painted with pain and fear.

"Stay down. You were hurt pretty bad…" Dean ignored her and still tried to push himself upwards.

"Where is Sam?" He said, his voice much stronger.

"Easy Dean. Conserve your strength. With any luck, you won't need it, but from what I've heard, you don't really have the best luck…."

"Where. Is. Sam." He growled, pausing after each word for emphasis.

"Relax. He's fine. He just went on a little errand." She gestured over her shoulder at the siren camp just a little while over.

"You let him go by himself to face a village full of sirens?!" He got a sick feeling.

"Hey. I tried to go with, but he was all 'I don't want to leave them here by themselves.'"

That sounded like Sam all right. Always trying to defend him, even though it wasn't his place. "Wait a minute…them?" Dean asked, questionably. He noticed for the first time the siren in the corner of the room. "Not you…" He gasped. The siren gave a wide, cruel smile and her eyes went black.

"Dean." She said with vigor.

"Bella…" he groaned.

The ropes binding her snapped as if they were made of string. She rose slowly, her eye never leaving Dean. The other siren rushed towards her, knife drawn and her body tense to attack. With the quick twist of her head, Bella flung the siren backwards, pinning her against the wall.

"That's not very nice…" Bella mocked, her black eyes callous as she moved cockily toward Dean.

He tried to get away, rising up as high as he dared with the state his knee was in. He stepped away, dragging his knees, never fully taking his eyes off of Bella. She simply smiled and swished her hand. He felt his knee give way, aided by her demonic powers. He fell to the ground, his knee screaming. He couldn't keep the pained yell from tearing from his lips.

Bella's smile grew as he continued to walk towards him in a slow, monotonous pace. He dragged his body across the ground. His feeble effort of escape seemed to please her. She didn't need to move fast to keep up with him or catch him. While he desperately dragged his body across the ground, having to do so gingerly to keep from further injuring himself, she simply walked.

It didn't take long for her to be on him, looking down at him in a cruel manner. He drew Ruby's knife.

"One more step and I will. I swear I will." He growled. She flicker her hand. He could feel the knife trying to slip out of his hand. He knew if he lost it, it would be all over. He gritted his teeth and pushed back. He plunged the knife upwards, cleaving her arm.

Bella seemed shocked as blood and a wild array of sparks danced out of her wound. She eyed it with the same odd confusion and curiosity a child with her first blood-drawing injury. She seemed shocked that it actually hurt.

But within a moment, she looked down at him, a scowl on her feature. "You missed." She said detachedly.

"I wasn't aiming to kill you." Dean answered as a big grin met his face. He flung his hands up to his ears and nodded.

Bella gave him a confused look but with in a second, it became obvious what she meant as a loud screech filled the air. Bella fell to her knees. Even with his ears covered, his ears killed and he was going near insane from the strength of her cry.

He distantly heard the sound grow louder and felt a tight tug on his waist as strong fine arms supported his weight. The two dashed off, into the darkness of the cavern…


End file.
